


Motes & Motors: Now or Never

by martieek



Series: Motes & Motors [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cigarettes, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Fist Fights, Flashbacks, Friendship, Late at Night, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Siblings, Smoking, all of this is very mild dont get too scared, background klance, these are relevant tags but they're nothing too graphic and it's very brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martieek/pseuds/martieek
Summary: Shiro doesn't want to admit any feelings to himself or anyone else, even if everyone else can tell.





	Motes & Motors: Now or Never

**Author's Note:**

> [Motes & Motors Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/asilverboy/playlist/2q1FmNMVJZJSTvNNbhNTdN?si=eYA0Rmh6SeqNGVEVGlNGPQ)
> 
>  
> 
> a little fair warning now: while the tags do mention the angst and violence, it's not nearly to the same extent as in "Petrichor," it's fairly brief and mild. But I always like to give a heads-up just in case that makes you uncomfy!
> 
> Also side note: while I didn't write this as part of the @shattsunday prompt challenge, I did take one of their one-line dialogue prompts ("Quit laughing at me, I've never done this before!") to help kickstart the beginning of this fic, so thanks for the inadvertent help :^P

Pursing his lips and try as he might, Matt simply couldn’t understand the appeal.  “It just tastes like some kind of fiber.”

Shiro, clearly amused, twitched a hand as if wanting to help but let it fall, leaning into the brick of the old building that sheltered them from the downpour.  He must have expected more entertainment from watching Matt fumble.  “You didn’t even light it.”

“Yes, I did!  There’s smoke coming off it.”

“No, you just burnt the paper; the tobacco isn’t lit.  Here.”  Giving in, Shiro took the cigarette from Matt and brought it to his lips, flicking his lighter.  The end began to glow, smoke spewing from it with more density.  Matt paid close attention to the way Shiro’s cheeks hollowed just a bit, how he inhaled after pulling the filter out of his mouth, and the smoke spilling from his lips and nostrils as he handed the cigarette back to Matt with a smirk.

 _Okay, that was… hot_.

Sure, sure; smoking was bad: health risks, lots of money, secondhand, the environment, yadda yadda.  Of course Matt knew all that.  But he was just so damn curious, and anyone who said smoking doesn’t make you look good was lying to themselves.

Hoping his expression wasn’t betraying this unrequested burst of attraction to Shiro, Matt tried to mimic Shiro’s process.

“It’s not a straw,” Shiro laughed when Matt inferenced he’d puckered too hard.  “You’re gonna soak the filter with spit and make it worse for yourself.”

“Quit laughing at me!” Matt bit back with a self-conscious shrill.  “I’ve never done this before.  I didn’t realize a masterful understanding of the art of breathing was necessary.”

“It’s more like a combination of sucking and breathing.”

“ _You’re_ a combination of sucking and breathing.”

“What does that even mean?”

His pride stubborn as ever, Matt gave one last go at the cigarette.  He kept his lips tighter around the filter as he took a deep breath.

Too deep.

Matt could practically hear his body screaming, _What the fuck, dude?_ as he coughed horribly, wanting to double over from the repulsion.  He heard Shiro snort in sympathetic laughter as he retrieved the cigarette from Matt’s extended hand, which flipped off Shiro once free.

Taking his glasses off to wipe at watering eyes, Matt straightened to face Shiro, equal parts embarrassed and agitated.  “Why?” he managed to croak.

With infuriating ease and trailing laughter, Shiro took another drag.  “Why what?”

Matt grimaced.  “Why would you ever want to do that more than once?”

“Commitment,” Shiro offered with a dismissive shrug.  “Eventually habit takes over.”

“How long does your head feel like this?”

“Long enough to ensure you know it was a stupid idea.”

Curiosity satisfied enough to calm him down, Matt realized the rain had let up.  Outside, droplets glittered over many a surface as the sun unveiled itself once more.

Returning his glasses to his nose, Matt grumbled, “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The heavy smell of wet pavement filled his nose as Shiro followed Matt back into the street.  Gutters trickled in the distance alongside the echo of sloshing tires.  The spring weather was comfortably cool, but Shiro felt extra warm… for… _some_ reason. He slung his jacket over his shoulder, walking down the street at Matt’s side.

Once they’d reached a steady pace, Matt ventured, “So, did that count as a kiss?”

Shiro almost tripped, tossing a confused glance at Matt who cocked a playful eyebrow.  “Did—what?”

Matt’s eyes sparkled like the puddles in the street.

 _Wow_ , Shiro chastised himself.   _That’s what you come up with?_

Matt made a considering face, then shrugged with a poorly-concealed smile.  “I mean, we traded spit, so technically…”  Nothing about his tone was different; cadence as it sounded in any normal conversation, but Shiro still swallowed against a blush.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Shiro replied, managing to keep his own voice even.  He couldn’t quite look back at Matt, searching down the sidewalk for… something?

 _Oh, good, a trash can_.  Shiro nearly skipped ahead to drown and toss his cigarette, but Matt easily kept up, oblivious as far as Shiro could tell.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Matt continued to tease, “I think I’m supposed to buy you a drink first.”

“I, uh, I don’t… drink.”  It came out before Shiro could think of something clever instead.  He’d meant to keep up the casual façade, but the effort necessary felt obvious and more uncomfortable than if he’d just let the sincerity show.

Matt didn’t even seem to notice, expression growing curious.  “Really?” he said with disbelief.  “ _That’s_ where you draw the line?”

Shiro didn’t want to elaborate.   _I didn’t have to say that.  Why did I say that?_  He shrugged, tone flattening.  “It’s just… a rule.”

“Since when do you care about rules?”

“Matt _, please_ ,”  Shiro snapped, reflexive.  Then, reeling himself back in, “I’m—Sorry, I just—”

“No, I’m sorry,” Matt interrupted, voice still nonchalant but more earnest now.  “I was only—poor attempt at joking.  I, uh, didn’t mean to be insensitive.”  He shrugged, indicating the discussion was done with a simple, “Your business.”

An agonizing period of awkward silence passed as they continued through town, broken only by their feet over the concrete and the suburban ambience.  By the time they arrived at Matt’s house, Shiro was ready to swallow his own head.

Thankfully, Matt’s unabashed nature saved them both.  He flashed a grin and a finger gun as they stopped at his front door, standing close enough together that Shiro could finally see Matt’s eyes clearly.  “Well,” Matt said with friendly ease, “now you know where I live if you ever need anything.”

Shiro felt his expression crinkle to match his bemusement.

“Y’know, like if you need to kidnap me for ransom or something,” Matt offered, shrugging again, but Shiro noticed a softness in his eyes—his perfectly-normal-and-not-mystically-colored eyes—that he desperately tried not to linger on.

Shiro swallowed with some effort, shifting his weight to settle back into the casual atmosphere.  “Right, just knock on the front door of the guy who is begging for a reason to lock me up.”  _When did it get so hot?_

Matt dismissed the comment with a gesture, not at all concerned.  “Just throw some pebbles at my window or something.”  He pointed a hand to the upper left of the house—indicating which window was his, Shiro supposed.  

As if by some unsolicited divine intervention, Matt smirked and turned his head to face Shiro at the _exact_ correct angle for the sun to light up his eyes brilliantly.  Shiro blinked, transfixed for a solid three seconds.  _Holy shit, he’s so… pretty?_ His eyes had to be made of fire and gold to get that color.

 _Stop it_ , Shiro scolded himself.   _Don’t do that._   _Do not make metaphors out of him.  They’re just dumb brown eyes._

Shiro cleared his throat.  “Well, I’m sure you won’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried.”  Matt’s smile grew, but his head turned again out of the light, breaking his spell on Shiro.  “Later!” he said, disappearing into his house with no further formality, leaving Shiro resentfully dumbfounded in his wake.

 

* * *

 

Shutting the door almost too quickly behind him, Matt leaned back into it to take a breath against the pounding in his ribcage.   _Holy shit, why is he so pretty?_

Pidge happened to be on her laptop in the living room, sparing him a quick glance of disinterest.  “Somebody after you?”

“Girl Scouts,” Matt supplied, regaining his composure.  “Next door.  Don’t let them know I’m here.  I’m sure they’ll remember I bought eight boxes last year and there’s no way I can survive something like that again.”

After grabbing a soda from the kitchen, Matt joined his sister on the couch, peering over to see her laptop screen.  “Whatcha workin’ on?”

“Encrypting messages to the Girl Scouts,” Pidge quipped, not bothering to look up.  “Making sure they find you wherever you go.”

“Ha, _ha_.  You know, I’m just as good with codes as you are.  I could easily throw them off-course.”

“Why do you smell gross?”

Matt sipped his drink.  “Aren’t brothers _supposed_ to smell gross?”

Pidge finally turned her gaze to him, voice flat but inquiring.  “You’ve been weirder than normal lately.  Did you get hooked on something?”

Matt couldn’t refrain from laughing.  “Why?  Do you know a guy?”

“I mean, I saw on the news the other day about—”  Halting mid-thought, Pidge narrowed her eyes before returning to whatever her jumble of text and graphics was.  “Nevermind, don’t tell me.  I don’t want to know because if you go to jail or something, I don’t want any liability.”

“Love you, too, Pidge,” Matt crooned, ruffling her hair as he stood.

“Stop calling me that,” she called after him as he headed upstairs to his room, leaving his sister none-the-wiser.   _What they don’t know won’t hurt ’em._

_  
_

* * *

 

Unsure of where to direct his nervous energy, Shiro walked to Keith and Lance’s apartment to recount his afternoon to them.  Sitting on the floor and petting the cats, he tried to sound as ambivalent as possible.  He must have done poorly, based on their knowing expressions.

Sitting back into the couch, Lance gave a low whistle with a look of fond amusement.  “Hoo, _buddy_ , you got it _bad_.”

Shiro looked off to the side, hyperfocused on an unidentified stain on the wallpaper.  Leaning into the base of the kitchen counter, he tried to keep his voice steady in spite of the heat in his face.  “I don’t ‘got’ anything.  It’s just—We’re—He’s fun to hang out with is all.”

“Oh, _come on_ , Shiro, it’s all over your face!” Lance insisted, ignoring a chastising look from Keith, tightening an arm around him.  “I _know_ that face; Keith had the _same_ stupid face after I kissed him the first time.”

“I did not,” Keith argued, but he kept his eyes on Shiro, sympathetic.

Shiro crossed his arms to prevent his hands from fidgeting.  “We didn’t _kiss_ ,” he protested, as if that was the point being debated.

“But you _want_ to.”  Lance wiggled his eyebrows.  “And lots more.”

“That’s—No.”

“You’re a bad liar, Shiro.  Always were.”

“Back off, Lance,” Keith interjected, much to Shiro’s relief.  However, the relief vanished as Keith continued, “Shiro, you should really talk to him.”

“No, there’s noth—Can we drop this?”  Shiro huffed, a flustered hand running through his hair.  “I don’t—This isn’t a _thing_ ; it _can’t_ be a thing.  Stop acting like it’s a thing.”

Lance’s taunting tone was replaced with an earnest one he so rarely exhibited.  “Shiro, you’re gonna lose your mind trying to pretend you don’t feel what you’re feeling.”

“I’m not feeling anything.”

“Oh, _bullshit_ , you’re the feely-est feeler I’ve ever known.  You feel _everything_.”

“Matt’s not—He’s—” Shiro began sputtering, submitting to the pressure from Lance and also his inner torment with a frustrated sigh.  “He’s _different_.”

“Aren’t they always?” Lance posed, exaggerating a dreamy stare at Keith who only rolled his eyes.

“Because his dad is a cop?” Keith prompted when Shiro held back again.

“No—”  Shiro rubbed his eyes.  Maybe he could sometimes form thoughts with grandeur and eloquence, but actually voicing those thoughts was like guessing at an entire foreign language.  “I mean, that’s not the only—”  He shook his head fervently.  “I don’t know, I can’t—He can’t—”  Words failed Shiro, so he resorted to burying his face in his palms with a groan.

“Easy, big guy,” Lance soothed with a giggle.  He shrugged, understanding.  “So, you’re scared of having actual feelings for someone and not just a fleeting good time.”

Shiro lifted his head but kept his eyes down, focused on nothing in particular.  “I guess that’s the abridged version.”

“Okay, so?  Don’t be a little bitch!” Lance encouraged bluntly, paying no mind to the irritated _“Lance!”_ from Keith.  He sprung to his feet, suddenly enough to startle the cats, pulling Shiro up with him and flinging an arm around his shoulders. “You just gotta jump in, Shiro.  Kiss him goodnight, fuck him under the stars, pick him some flowers, whatever you old-school romantic types do.  ‘ _Carpe diem_ ,’ y’know?”

Shiro shamed himself for the burst of heat in his gut at even the passing suggestion of doing any of those things with Matt, but he raised a doubtful eyebrow.  “Lance, it took you three years to tell Keith how you felt.”

“And now look at us,” he replied with no hesitation, holding Keith’s gaze with smolder.  “Happiest of clams.”

Shiro felt his edge fade as he watched Keith try to fight the grin he knew he only kept for Lance in private.  Scarlet bounded into his lap, and Keith occupied himself with stroking her pelt.

Shiro smiled in his stead, relenting, “I’d swear you two were born an old married couple.”

Keith blushed with what must have been pride, but he kept his regular even tone as he leaned forward, encouraging. “You deserve to be happy too, Shiro.  Give it a shot.”

Shiro would have loved to continue his protests and denial, listing all his insecurities and fears accompanying the prospective situation, but damn if this didn’t seem like a picturesque end to the conversation.  He held his tongue, more for Keith’s and Lance’s benefits, allowing himself an uncertain smile.

 

* * *

 

Knowing Coran preferred he not come home long after dark—more for Coran’s own peace of mind and not necessarily for any kind of curfew—Shiro had accepted the supportive two-way hug from Lance and Keith before taking the back way toward home.  The route was longer and not as well-lit in the evenings, but Shiro wanted the extra time to himself.

Not that it was granted to him.  Shiro had only made it about halfway home before the recurring sound of footsteps from behind finally freed him from his rumination.  He tried not to make it obvious he knew someone was following him, keeping his pace even and eyes forward until rounding the corner of an alley where he waited, listening close to the approaching steps.

 _Two of them,_ he counted after a beat.  On instinct, his muscles tensed in anticipation of either offense or defense.  He wouldn’t have assumed there was a threat if not for the way the pair of footsteps remained hard and steady, and neither person had spoken once.

As he heard them nearing the corner, Shiro raised a defensive arm.  The pair seemed unfazed as they rounded and met his eyes with matching smirks.  Shiro recognized Cole, a small but mean son of a bitch who belonged to Dax’s little posse and was rarely seen with his lips detached from Dax’s ass.  The girl with him Shiro had never seen before, but he had no interest in getting familiar.

“What’s the rush, big guy?” Cole drawled as the girl shifted her weight with a scowl.  “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

Shiro lowered his arm, but he didn’t release the tension that kept him on high-alert.  “You really want me to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?”

The girl clucked her tongue, unimpressed by the jibe.  “My _boyfriend_ is at home with stitches and a black eye because of you,” she spat, but checked herself with a shrug before finishing, “so I felt the need to return the favor.”

“Easy, Minnie,” Cole soothed with a grin, keeping his glinting eyes on Shiro.  

Shiro flicked his gaze between the two, the threat so upfront it almost flew over his head.  “You can’t be serious.”

Minnie twitched as if she was ready to strike right there, but she just clenched her jaw with a hand on her hip.  Cole took a step closer, and Shiro held his breath, noting with dismay that he was already backed against the wall.

“Yeah, and I’ve got a few debts of my own to repay,” said Cole, his tone falling flat, “so I thought I’d tag along.”  He’d come close enough for Shiro to smell his breath, and Shiro tried not to visibly recoil from the stench as Cole whispered, “Don’t worry, we’ll dress you up nice and pretty for that cute little pet you got.  What’s his name again?  Matt?”  Cole hummed in amusement, and Shiro’s heart dropped.  “I’m sure Commander Holt will be happy to know his son is fucking his favorite waif.”

Shiro tossed the first punch before he even registered the reflex.  Such a clear shot at Cole’s face sent the crack echoing down the alley.  There was no time for anyone to think; as Cole reeled with a curse, Minnie pounced forward, silent as a cat, and raked her sharpened nails over Shiro’s face.

Right away Shiro felt the wound smart at his forehead and he gritted his teeth with a hiss, but before he could even raise a hand to it, Cole barrelled his entire weight into Shiro, sending them both lurching into the pavement with a clumsy thud.  Minnie drove her boot into Shiro’s side, ridding his lungs of any remaining breath.

Panicked from the brief lack of air, Shiro could only manage to throw his arms up in defense against Cole’s blows.  He felt something hot and wet splat into his face—someone’s spit.  It stung as it mixed with the blood from Minnie’s cuts, and when Shiro was able to suck in a breath, it came back out as a mangled sound, some combination of a gasp and a yelp.

 _How did this happen?_ was his only thought as Cole’s weight disappeared from Shiro’s torso.  He never got overpowered like that.  Shiro’s hands were still raised to his face, but they were no longer in fists; just open and shaking in surrender.  Realizing his eyes were squeezed shut, Shiro opened them and saw Cole and Minnie looming over him, bodies twisted away with disgust on their faces.

“That was easier than I thought.  How embarrassing,” Minnie mumbled in sour disappointment, her voice smothered by the roar in Shiro’s ears.  “You sure we got the right guy?” she deadpanned as she and Cole walked away, leaving Shiro alone, a confused and dirtied mess on the pavement.

Very slowly, Shiro sat up and crawled over to the wall, resting back against it and ignoring the dampness in his clothes from being on the ground.  Absently, he dabbed a sleeve at his forehead, pulling it away to see more blood than he anticipated.  It didn’t hurt though.  In fact, Shiro felt almost entirely numb.

Staying very still, Shiro tried to replay the fight in his mind, but the events were skewed with flashes of other times and places, pieces of dialogue from scattered scenes in his memory.

_How do you like it, huh?_

_Leave him alone!_

_Pathetic._

_Are you okay?_

_Stop it!  Please!_

Breath shallow and sharp, Shiro tucked into himself as the memories played louder, blending together then back apart, voices overlapping.

_You can’t keep doing this._

_Get off of him!_

_You need help.  Let me do this for you._

_He’s gone.  Just gone._

Keith’s face flashed behind Shiro’s eyes.  Then Lance.

_Easy, big guy._

_Shiro?_

_Let’s get you home._

...Home?  Shiro clenched his teeth, arms tight around himself as he fought to control his breathing.

_You deserve to be happy, too._

_...fucking his favorite waif._

_...if you ever need anything._

Matt smiled in Shiro’s mind, and he opened his eyes with a gasp.  His mouth was dry, but he swallowed anyway despite his tight throat.  After a minute, he reoriented himself and slowed his breathing.

Shiro wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, but no other signs of life had passed him by.  He still hugged himself, but stood carefully with a deep breath.  The pain came back in small waves, first his side but mostly the stinging in his face.  He rubbed an aggravated sleeve over the biggest scratch on his forehead with a grunt of disdain.

Taking a final moment to regain some composure, Shiro continued on his route now with a new destination in mind.

 

* * *

 

The cowbell clanged as Shiro pushed through the door of the gas station.  It must have, anyway.  It usually did.  Shiro wasn’t paying much attention.

“Oh, hey, Shiro,” Hunk greeted easily as Shiro slipped into the candy aisle without sparing a glance up.

Lance sounded puzzled behind Shiro's back.  “I thought you would have been home by now, everything alright?”

“Yeah, you?” Shiro offered, possibly loud enough to be heard but maybe not.

“If I’d have known you were coming this way I’d have been your escort,” teased Lance, hardly one to be put-off by Shiro's lack of engagement.

Shiro grabbed a little bag of jelly beans after some consideration, not really questioning the odds of both Lance and Hunk being here at—what time was it?  Hunk was always working and Lance had a knack for uncanny timing—he must have stopped to get something for Keith. 

“These should be soft enough, right?” Shiro asked, distant as he reached the counter.

“Shiro, what the hell?”  Sudden concern pitched Lance’s voice, but not enough to draw Shiro’s gaze from the bag in his hand—he was ultimately lost to his own thoughts.

“Pebbles might hurt the glass, or the harder candy.  I thought these might work better.”

“Are you okay, dude?” Hunk asked warily.  He must have taken a late shift.  Was it late?

Delayed, Shiro looked up to Lance and Hunk as if suddenly realizing where he was.  Their faces reminded him he probably looked like shit.  “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” he dismissed.  “Hey, Lance, I think you're right.”

Visibly recoiling, Hunk held up a hand.  “Okay, now I’m  _really_  worried.  Lance?  Right?”

With little more than an unamused glance to Hunk, Lance seemed more curious than worried, but he kept his brow knit.  “I don’t doubt it, but about which thing exactly?”

Shiro shrugged.  “ _Carpe diem._ ”

“You’re picking fights to  _carpe diem_?”

“I didn’t pick it,” Shiro protested more harshly than he meant, but Lance didn’t budge.

“Shouldn’t you get that checked out?” Hunk interjected, pointing to Shiro’s forehead.  “We have Band-Aids.”

Shiro placed the jelly beans on the counter.  “Just this.”

Hunk was unconvinced.  “Shiro, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I haven’t seen you like this in a long time, man,” Lance added sincerely.

Shiro felt very tired, tucking the beans into his pocket as he turned to leave.  “All good.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow and let you know how it goes.”

“How  _what_  goes?”

“You forgot to pay for—nevermind.”  Hunk sighed.  “Lance, what the hell did you tell him?”

Shiro could have sworn he heard the bewildered glances between the two as the door clanged shut behind him, and with bright clarity he recalled the route to Matt’s house with Keith’s voice in the back of his mind:  _Give it a shot._

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever just because my useless squirrel brain cannot focus on anything for longer than three seconds at a time.
> 
> Jumping waaay back in time now to before my very first chapter, because ever since I wrote the first one I've been wanting to write the events leading up to that to explain why/how Shiro showed up at Matt's in the first place. (I was considering rewriting their first kiss from Shiro's POV as well just as like a little bonus to offer some better insight into his thought process, but I haven't decided yet. Would you guys want to read something like that?)
> 
> This isn't the very beginning of this timeline, but I do plan on writing the very beginning at some point to actually explain more context of this universe, how Matt and Shiro met, etc. It's in the works! I might be taking a short break from writing this AU though just so I can sort of refresh my mind by exploring some other ideas, but that means I'll be able to come back to this stronger than before! I'm just at a point with Motes & Motors now where I need to think about consistency and everything, so I don't wanna just rush and spew things out before actually making sure they make sense and are adding value to the overall narrative and all that stuff. This started as just a fun little side project to pick at when I can, and I'm absolutely still having fun with it, but I want to be sure it's of good quality for everyone else too!
> 
> Anyway, sorry for my tendency to get chatty in the notes lol. Also, sorry for always making everything I post a little angsty; I can't help it, I think it's a medical condition.
> 
> you can come hang out with me on tumblr @sewerpigeon or my art blog @martieek :^)


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